Binding of Fenrir
by Chocoomba
Summary: "There's danger in them woods. Beware! The Big Bad Wolf is lurking there. Better to be safe than sorry. Shortcuts are not always good. Take the long road 'round the forest while the Wolf is in the wood."
1. Prologue

**(******A/N******:**

Okay. So this is a sorta ****strange**** little plot-bunny which have been humping my brain silly for the past month and a half or so that I decided to get down on (digital) paper. It was originally intended as a one-shot but as the plot branched and got more complex and the page numbers began running ahead of me I decided to divide it up into shorter chapters instead - I believe it will read better this way anyways so...

Oh! And this is an ****AU**** by the way! What kind? If you haven't figured it out yet I'd rather not spoil it for you, read and find out *wink wink*!

I will _try _and update this as regularly as I can but I will admit that I'm about to graduate from university in about a month and as my workload goes up my time and motivation to work on this will probably go down... I'm writing this in my spare time to unwind a bit away from my studies but I can't prioritize it at the moment.

Also, the qoute at the beginning is not from me but comes from a Disney animation called "The Big Bad Wolf".

**Beware of **some **OOCness **and **Yaoi **in later chapters.

If all of this sound fine and dandy with you then welcome aboard! The first chapter will be up in a jiffy and I hope you'll enjoy this odd little tale of mine...)

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**\- Binding of Fenrir -**

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Prologue

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_"__There's danger in them woods. Beware! The Big Bad Wolf is lurking there. Better to be safe than sorry. Shortcuts are not always good. Take the long road 'round the forest while the Wolf is in the wood.__"_

_._

_._

_._

The pitter-patter of naked children's feet scurrying among damp grass and moss resounded between tall oak trees. A boy, the quickened, slightly high-pitched, breathing brought to light.

The Wolf strained its long ears and listened carefully in order to shadow the boy's stride as he leapt on slippery rocks in order to cross the active river bank. Slipping between the long, thick tree-roots that reminded him of a witches' fingers, past the hollow tree that served as the foxes den, the boy's both breath and legs finally started to become too heavy to carry him.

The Wolf sniffed the air once it deemed their difference in distance well-nigh; barely able to constrain the snort at the intense mixture of scents that hit its snout like a percussion. The boy reeked of fear, sweat, salt and... _blood?_

With a thump and a splosh, the boy cried out as his legs gave out underneath his own weight and brought him down into a puddle of mud. The Wolf listened carefully to how the boy whined and sniveled with each heaved breath as it measuredly stalked towards the boy's hunkered back with its head bowed low.

There was a sharp intake of breath and the boy quickly turned around to lie on his back, ignoring the wet dirt that leeched itself into the cloth of his shirt, at the sudden waft of warm air against his neck and he came face-to-nose with a grandiose wolf. The notorious forest guardian, _Fenrir_.

The same Fenrir known for its rancourously blood-stained fur and bulk. Its body four, perhaps five times bigger than what could be considered natural.

The same Fenrir that Matron had stuffed his head filled with words of warning about while she tucked him in at night.

And yet...

With his right hand practically absorbed in the velvety thicket of fur, scratching the base of the Wolf's ear lovingly.

_... He felt a rare sort of peace._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

_'__I will take great care.__'_

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_Once upon a time, in this very village__**,**__ there lived a far-famed huntsman who, with his proficient way to handle a rifle, single-handedly kept the entire village fed during the harshest of winters._

_He was a loner who choose to abode in the cottage closest to the woods where he would spend his days undesturbed, admiring the skins from woodlands creatures which he had hung on his walls._

_However, as time passed by the man grew weary of the stuffed wolves and bears as his sole companions and decided that he should venture into the village more frequently. During his ventures, and while the sun was still blistering, he fell in love with a flowergirl and each morning he would purchase from her a single flower simply to bring a smile to her face._

_A single flower soon turned into several bouquets and before the first flake of snow even hit the ground, the sound of their wedding bells engulfed the streets._

_The young flowergirl moved to live with the huntsman and with her she brought a garden of blue corn-flowers to decorate the cottage's peripheral, claiming that she wanted something to serve as a reminder of her husbands brilliant eyes while he was out on his hunts._

_One day while the newly-wed huntsman went to visit his dear friend and owner of the local tavern in the village, he overheard two men talking which caused his interest to pique.  
_

_'I once met a wolf who was being fooled by a fox; I took the wolf down and then tracked the fox back to its lair and brought it back likewise. Certainly, I am the greatest huntsman of the north.' bragged the man on the right._

_'I once rescued a young damsel from certain death when she one day stumbled upon an entire family of bears. Certainly, I am the greatest huntsman of the entire land.' clucked the man on the left._

_'I once outwitted an owl to lead me to a grand elk - the King of the Forest. Its meat alone fed this village and guaranteed its survival throughout an entire winter. Certainly,__** I**__ am the greatest huntsman of all time.' the famed huntsman added to the braggarts conversation._

_'Well, this sounds like a problem. Obviously there can't possibly be three huntsmen who are the greatest at the same time so at least two of you must be liars.' the barkeep, who had also overheard the conversation, noted as she delivered drinks to the trio._

_'Then how about a bet to settle who is the best," the first man mused, "Tomorrow morning we all head into the woods and meet here again by nightfall and the two of us who brings back the most wimpish of quarry shall sing bardic poetry in respect to the winner until sun rises once again._

_What say you?'_

–

"_Squall! _Just what were you _thinking_ running off on your own into the forest like that?! You should consider yourself lucky you're here right now and not in Fenrir's belly!" With her head held high and her arms crossed before her chest Edea, lovingly referred to as "Matron" by the orphans which she cared for, reprimanded the young boy standing in front of her. His cheeks puffy and tinged red from being chastised for his disobedience.

However, a pair of stinging cheeks was nothing compared to the humiliation of having the other children observe their exchange like it was an attraction at the carnival. Silently judging.

"The Wolf didn't eat me. It could of but it didn't even try to..." The young boy, Squall, muttered. His hands folded behind his back and head bent forward in shame.

"Are you telling me that Fenrir _saw_ you!?" the woman gasped and glanced appalingly in the direction of the forest like she was afraid to find the Wolf itself standing there.

"No, It didn't _see_ me because it never opened its eyes! But it definitly knew I was there." He looked up to meet Matron's eyes for the first time since his return, a glint of assurance in his own. "I, I don't think Fenrir is a Bad Wolf!"

"Or maybe the Wolf prefers actual meat over just skin and bones. Did you ever think of _that?_" It was Seifer, the oldest of the orphans, that decided to join the conversation. "Or maybe your kind just smells unappetizing. Wouldn't suprise anyone." He never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

"Seifer, don't get involved!" Matron snapped at him. "Squall, wait for me in the infirmary. We need to care for those wounds but don't believe for a second that this discussion is over with!"

As Matron walked out of sight and into the small cottage that served as their joint living quarters, the group of children dispersed; Squall obediently making his way to the infirmary which was an annex to the small shed located a short distance away from the main building and closer to the forest. There he parked himself on the sickbed, idly dangling his legs off the side as he waited for Matron to proceed her lecture.

She entered the small room shortly thereafter, carrying a wad of cotton and a translucent bottle of rubbing alcohol. Kneeling down in front of the boy, she frowned disapprovingly at the newly acquired red gash across his face.

"It didn't sound to me like Fenrir caused you any harm so am I to assume this is one of the villager's doing?" She asked as she poured some of the alcohol onto the wad, her tone of voice now much more gentle as she had taken some time to calm herself and think things through more clearly. Nothing but silence followed her wondering and she sighed in slight frustration once she realized that she wasn't going to recieve an answer. For now, she decided to drop the subject.

Squall hissed and scrunched his eyes together tightly in order to try and keep the tears at bay as Matron cautiously dabbed the cotton wad across the wound on his face, trying to be as gentle as possible while she cleansed it from the dirt and grass that threatened to cause an infection.

"_You_ if anyone should stay clear of the forest, Squall. I know this might sound somewhat absurd but... " She soaked one of the towels in the sink at her left-hand side and began carefully scrubbing away the drying blood from the boy's face before she sighed again, as if mentally preparing herself for what she was about to say next. "...If it's true as you said, that the Wolf is good to you, and the villagers realize that you can visit the forest unscathed while they can't... I wouldn't put it past them to come to the conclusion that you and Fenrir are in some sort of collusion with each other."

Once satisfied with the state of the boy's face she held it with both hands, urging him to look her in the eye as she continued, "_Don't_ give them more reasons to hurt you."

Squall nodded somberly. He understood the gravity of Matron's words, after all if there was anyone who could relate to what he was going through it had to be her, the difficult part was to accept them.

The infirmary door creaked and tufts of brown and hints of a petite blue dress peeked around the brink of it. "Squally? I heard you got back. Are you-" Her tiny voice, soft as cotton candy, blended into a sharp gasp when she spotted the condition of the boy's face in the light of a flickering candle. Immediatly she rushed to close the distance between them, almost stumbling over her own dress in the process.

"Ellone..."

"My goodness! What happened?! Is Squally gonna be okay?" The little girl's head rapidly looked between Matron and the boy, worry apparent in her eyes.

"I'm fine, Sis. Don't worry." He smiled at her and comfortingly squeezed her hand in his. Holding the appendage somehow always managed to soothe him.

"What happened?"

Squall felt the bed dip and glanced hesitantly at Matron who had taken a seat next to him on the bed. Suddenly fully aware of how their exchange was being scrutinized by the older woman.

"Just... Some meanies. Down town..."

Ellone covered parts of her mouth with the hand not being held by Squall. "They hurt you?! Why? Is it because you're a Sorcer-"

"Hush! We don't talk about that here. You never know who might be listening." Matron quickly intervened.

Ellone clasped her mouth with both of her hands this time. " 'm so sorry! I just... " The little girl hesitated before looking up again and her eyes locked with Squall's. "The others told me you traversed the woods... Is this true?"

Squall had to look away, refocusing his attention to a rathole in the corner of the shed, before he allowed himself to nod.

"That's dangerous, Squally! What if Fenrir had gotten hold of you!" She blurted angrily before her voice suddenly turned uncharacteristically grievous. "Promise me you won't put yourself in danger like that again. Promise me that you will stay far away from the forest from now on," She said and held out one of her fists where Squall could see it. It was closed with only the pinky poking out expectantly.

"Nothing hap-"

"_Promise me, Squall._"

With a sigh the boy eventually relented and gingerly hooked his own pinky with Ellone's, reluctantly engaging in her promissory ritual.

"I promise."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: **

_'What big ears you have!'_

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_'- Eternal rest for the hefty white wolf,_

_Who a far-famed huntsman, it tried to engulf,_

_With vulpine cunning and deceit,_

_His bullet pierced dark meat,_

_Huzzah for this feast!_

_Eternal rest for the beast!'  
._

_That night, the entire village partook in the festivities and thus the tavern hollered with tributes and merriment thanks to the prize the newly-wed huntsman had toted back home with._

_They held a banquette and binged the finest of meat and, with its silvery fur, the huntsman tailored a beautiful coat for himself and his wife._

_The next day, as the huntsman once again made his way to the woods for a hunt, he crossed paths with a fair young lass donning a little riding hood made of red velvet over her head._

_'Good day, Mr. Huntsman, ' said she._

_'Good day to you as well, young miss.'_

_'Please, Mr. Huntsman, will you chaperon me to my grandmother's house? She is ill and weak and I bear gifts to enliven her.'_

_'Where does your grandmother live?'_

_'A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands under the three large oak-trees and the nut-trees are just below.'_

_'If you allow me a sip from that bottle of wine in your basket I will assure your safety to and fro your grandmother's house.' replied the huntsman._

_And so, with the promise to share some of her goods with the huntsman once they arrived, they embarked alongside each other in a journey through the forest._

–

Five years ago, Squall Leonhart made a promise to someone he cherished above all else to stay away from the forest because of the dangers it implied.

Three years ago, Squall Leonhart made another promise, to himself, that he wouldn't cry even when it felt like the world crumbled around him.

Today, Squall Leonhart had breached them both.

The Wolf sniffed the ground and pricked its ears up as it travelled further into the depths of the great forest; searching for the extrinsic presence that had summoned it.

The sound of stiffened, browning, leaves crunching underneath the Wolf's big paws mingled with the chorus of bird song, foliage fluttering in the wind and the faint sound of a child sobbing.

Its sensitive nose steered the Wolf into a modest clearing; towards the hollow trunk of a tree that stood proudly in its midst. The inside of the trunk was occupied by something warm, hominid and breathing, the Wolf perceived as it pushed its snout through the gap in the tree and huffed into the face of the intruder who exhaled a shaky breath in response.

"Wolf... If you're out looking for a snack then please help yourself. I won't mind."

It was a boy who spoke and if the Wolf had allowed its eyes to open it would have descried the crestfallen look that adorned his face following that statement.

For a short moment, only the song of nature and the sound of the boy's shallow breathing betrayed the illusion that time had suddenly frozen as the two figures remained stagnant.

It was the Wolf who made the first move, ungracefully clambering further inside the narrow trunk until it was more or less cornering the boy and then folded its legs underneath itself. Bumping its snout into the boy's chest and shoulder until it found his face, revealing impossibly sharp fangs as it opened its mouth.

Squall felt his heart speed up and swallowed nervously, cursing himself mentally for feeling the slightest of fear when he figured there should be none. After all, he had asked for this. He shut his eyes to steel himself better and told himself to stop.

Stop thinking. _Stop feeling._

The pain of the bite, the ripping of skin and the gobbling of his innards – never happened. Instead, a gruff tongue lapped at his wet cheeks followed by a soft, animalistic whine.

It was all it took for Squall to come apart at the seams.

Slinging both his arms around the Wolf's neck and burrowing his face in thick fur, he wept acutely.

"... Why... What did I do wrong...? Why did she... Why did she have to... _leave_?! … I don't understand... Doesn't she... like me anymore...? Whatever I did... I didn't mean t... to... I'll make it all up to you... just... Please, come back... _Sis_... "

The Wolf sat perfectly still as it listened to the boy's lament, taking note of how his voice cracked every so often with hints of adolescence.

Squall wasn't sure why he was pouring his heart out to the reputedly feral Wolf and even less why he found comfort in it. Maybe it was because he figured that the Wolf would listen to him without actually hearing what he said. Maybe he wanted to believe that he had found someone who would be able to accept him without judgement.

And so, the boy ended up divulging everything that burdened him to the Wolf.

He talked about how much it broke his heart to let go of his dearest Ellone's hand, knowing he might never see her again, as a strange man from a faraway land had come to whisk her away from him.

How his mother figure was growing weaker by the day and how much it terrified him to lose her dependency. He left out the bit about him being a Sorcerer and how he knew being considered Matron's protege was the only thing protecting him from being put through witch trial; learnings of carefully concealing such information being deeply rooted into his mind.

It was getting dark by the time the boy had run out of tears to shed and confessions to tell.

"I wonder if you're lonesome too," Squall queried as he let the Wolf escort him towards the outskirts of the woodland, "I hear your howls at night sometimes. They always sound so... heartbroken... to me."

The Wolf kept walking in a steady pace, leaving no impression that it had comprehended a word the boy had just spoken but he wasn't expecting it to either.

After another good ten minutes of walking, the pair egressed the forest together and found themselves in a vast field shimmering with bright white efflorescence. It was nightfall already and the pair was presented with a beautiful view of the sun beginning its descent past the oceans horizon.

Squall fought the urge to stop dead in his tracks and just enjoy the atmosphere for a moment as he saw the lighthouse next to the orphanage beckoning him to hurry on home. He had already missed dinner and it was against regulation to be outside after the lighthouse had been lit. There was no need to pile on even more punishments than he already knew was waiting for him.

He turned around to wave goodbye to the Wolf and give a few words of thanks for its aid but was surprised to find there was no over-sized beast behind him anymore but a grown man in its stead.

Squall felt his blood run cold at the sight.

"... Who... Who are you?" He asked cautiously. The man was well-built and dressed in clothes of dark colors, mostly green and brown, with belts crosscut over his chest and around his legs. They seemed old-fashioned to the boy but he wasn't experienced enough with clothing design to pin-point why he thought that.

The man's face was properly veiled by a crimson mask, carved out of wood, which resembled the head of a wolf. It was bolstered by three leather belts encircling his own head, gilded spikes of hair poking out between the gaps in a seemingly jumbled fashion, and the mask's snout protruded forward, creating a bit of distance between the mask and the man's real face.

Around his neck was a barely visible, translucent choke chain which tailed back into the forest behind him and Squall couldn't see the end of.

"Are you... Fenrir...?"

The man took a step forward so he was standing directly in front of the boy, the sudden movement causing Squall to gasp and brace himself - for what he wasn't sure.

"I go by many names and that is indeed one of them."

The man, or rather the_ Wolf, _knelt to an approximate eye-level with the boy and extended his arm out deliberately until his hand landed on a thin shoulder. It was meant as a comforting touch so when the boy recoiled and started trembling the Wolf frowned disapprovingly behind his mask. He found it worrisome that the boy who was barely fazed by the beastly appearance of the Wolf seemed to be petrified by his human form. It was usually the other way around.

"Will you be okay without her?"

The question seemed to help the boy recuperate a bit as he stumbled over his own words to quickly come up with a response.

"... Y" ... "Y-yeah... I'll... " He swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly feeling taut as he was reminded of Ellone. "... I'll do my best... I be able to take care of myself."

The Wolf moved his hand to tousle the boy's clipped hair gently and used his thumb to wipe away freshly formed tears from soft cheeks.

"Then you're stronger than I ever was." With that said, the Wolf rose to his feet and started walking back towards the forest, ignoring the feeling of curious eyes boring into his back.

Squall was frozen in place, flabbergasted by how the man's body blended into that of a grandiose wolf before him as he passed through the barrier of the woods. He followed it with his eyes almost desperately until it was swallowed by the darkness.

That night Squall had been sent to his room without supper and, as he lay alone in his bed, he reflected on the day's events. Thinking back, he chagrined over his blatant display of weakness and cursed his eyes that, even now, battled to push through more tears and winning.

Him? Stronger than the _Wolf_?

… Impossible. Although he couldn't deny the gratifying boost in self-esteem he had felt at hearing such words.

_Strong._

He decidedly wanted to become _stronger_.

With a final determined snivel and a deep scowl on his face, Squall Leonhart resolved to make yet another promise to himself, a new rule to live by, that he would never ever show his weakness again. To anyone.


	4. Chapter 3

_(AN: Sorrysorrysorry this took so long! The last few weeks before graduation left me quite burnt-out and I felt like I needed a short break away from writing for a while after having spent day and night slaving over a boring thesis. I've been working on this chapter on and off during my summer break and I've ended up re-writing it from scratch at least three times because it simply didn't want to work with me the way I wanted it to!_

_Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! Sorry if I've been a bit on the quiet side recently but I do want you all to know that I greatly appreciate every single one of you!_

_To zOMGPrincess: The plot of this story is based on three different "things", but I'm not sure if it might spoil anything to mention them quite yet xD I'll reveal them at the end of the final chapter in case anyone is truly interested to know!_

_Hope this next installment doesn't disappoint!)_

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**Chapter Three: **

_'All the better to hear you with'_

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Matron's passing didn't come as a surprise to many, her departure from this world having been anticipated for over a year. Even though, it didn't make the loss any less funereal to the children whom she had mothered, all of which had been there to shed tears at her burial and decorated her memorial stone with freshly picked narcissuses and hand-woven garlands of white flowers.

All except for one.

"-You know, you could at least _pretend _that you cared about all of this. I mean she was _'only' _the woman who raised and fed us!" Seifer, the oldest of Matron's former proteges, barked at the younger male opposite of himself.

Squall sighed wordlessly and kept on staring defiantly at the wooden planks underneath his bare feet. He was seated on top of the creamy white linen of his bed, straight across from the older boy, in the cramped space of what used to be a deteriorating storage shed; the tips of their toes almost touching from the forced proximity. He remained still, unmoving as a rock and refused to give the older man any sort of eye contact, hoping in vain that it would discourage Seifer from continuing his lecture and instead leave him alone – responding to the older boy as if he was disciplining a pleading dog begging for spoils at the kitchen table.

"... Are you done?" The apathetic response reluctantly spilled from his lips when Seifer didn't make any move to grant him his much wanted space back and the awkward silence was starting to feel suffocating.

The truth was that Squall had wanted to attend Matron's funeral and said his final farewells just as much as every other child in their vicinity. She was the closest his memory would ever bring him to a Mother and her disappearance from his life caused him more anguish than he'd ever care to admit. Least of all to someone like Seifer.

"What difference does it make?" Squall continued, followed by a defeated puff of air through slightly parted lips before he spoke up once again, "Will our tears bring her back to us or help clear a path for her in her ascension towards the heavens? ...Because if not, I see no point in agonizing on the unchangeable."

It wasn't necessarily a lie, but he was painfully aware of the fact that he was purposefully wording his responses to sound callous and void of any conveyance to what he was actually feeling on the matter, if only to get Seifer off his back. He mourned her death mostly because it was recent, not because he thought it imperative to grieve another. Growing up at an orphanage meant constantly welcoming new faces into an ever-growing family with the knowledge that, before long, you would have to watch them leave your life forever again without knowing exactly when. Usually without being prepared for the change. To him, Matron was just another one leaving.

Squall didn't need to look up in order to know that his act of nonchalance caused the older boy to stew in unmasked fury. Not that making the man angry had ever been a difficult task to begin with, especially when Squall was involved. The two of them had somehow always managed to find reasons to butting heads with each other.

From behind russet bangs, he noticed too late the other's fingers twitch. With the swiftness of a striking snake, those fingers reached out and grasped a handful of cloth from the front of Squall's white t-shirt and he suddenly found himself yanked to his feet and forced to face the irate man. Eyes as hard and cold as stainless steel challenged without hesitation the emerald-green glare, meant to intimidate, the older boy sent his way.

"I'm about fed up with this attitude of yours! Matron left me in charge of the orphanage, of the children and, unfortunately, of _you_. Allowing you to stay here is _charity _on my part and I think it's about time you start to appreciate my efforts!

From now on, you will do exactly as I say and stay out of my way or I will personally tie you to a pole and set you on fire whether the rest of the village agrees with me _or not!_"

Squall winced involuntarily at the booming voice of Seifer, bellowing far too close to his own ears for comfort.

"I don't remember Matron being this much of a _tyrant,_" the brunet bit back at the outburst without missing a beat but didn't otherwise make any move to fight back or untangle himself out of the strong hand keeping him in place by his collar. He knew that Seifer was looking for a fight and he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction by complying, even though his muscles had tensed considerably and he felt his blood pump fast with adrenaline, his hands instinctively folding into fists at his side - bracing him for the fight that he refused to be baited into initiating.

Seifer's eyes narrowed into thin slits and, for a moment, Squall thought he saw a glint of something dangerous flash through them. Bringing the younger male uncomfortably close to his own face, to the point where he had to lean back to avoid their noses from colliding, Seifer spoke with meaning, adding weight to every single word, "I'm not Matron."

Using the hold of the brunet's shirt as leverage, he shoved Squall harshly back into the wall; Watching as the boy lost his footings and stumbled over the bedframe. His head banged against the wallpapered bricks behind him and, with his feet leaving the ground, he collapsed back down on the mattress where Seifer had originally found him seated mere minutes ago.

Squall had to bite his lower lip in order to refrain from making a pained noise at the impact. He didn't move from where he'd fallen on the bed, with his face partially hidden by the sheets, figuring that maybe if he pretended to be dead or at least unconscious Seifer would eventually take the hint and finally leave him be. The back of his head throbbed menacingly, screaming promises about the bruise that would undoubtedly evolve there over night, and he was already feeling exhausted from their conversation. It was barely noon yet he wanted nothing more than to curl up under the sheets and wait for tomorrow.

"Do we have an understanding?!"

… Unfortunately, Seifer either didn't get the message or he consciously chose to disregard it.

"... Fine..." Squall pressed through clenched teeth, his response muffled against the sheets.

"Are you saying that because you actually agree with me or just because you're trying to make me leave?!"

"... Leave..."

With a frustrated snort and a soft curse under his breath, Seifer's patience seemed to have finally run dry. With a sharp turn of his heel, he stomped angrily towards the door – halting just for a brief second with his foot resting on the threshold to throw a furious look back at the clothed heap of flesh still laying motionless on top of the bed.

"When did you become such an ass, _Leon_."

Squall ground his teeth together, dozens of suitable retorts flitting through his mind at that final remark but before he was given an opportunity to answer Seifer had already closed the door shut behind him and, from the sound of it, locked it.

* * *

He wasn't sure when he had dozed off but the slight daze clouding his mind and the coarseness coating the corners of his eyes, forcing him to blink repeatedly, suggested that he had been asleep for quite some time.

About five days had come and gone since Matron had left their world for the next one. At least he _thought _that was about long had passed; He had been steadily losing track of the concept of time, as his new room lacked windows and he didn't have a clock in his possessions, the only way for him to measure time being counting the number of meals he'd received since his in-migration to the storage shed. He felt like a voluntary prisoner in his own home(a locked door wasn't enough to stop him from leaving had he been dedicated enough to make an escape) although being confined to a tiny room wasn't the worst part. It was the _boredom _that was killing him. He more often than not found himself either sleeping or reading, having thankfully stumbled upon Matron's hidden stash of spellbooks underneath a loose floorboard while exploring every nook and cranny of the tiny room in lack of better things to do. They were interesting enough to keep his attention preoccupied for a few hours at a sitting, although he didn't have the audacity to actually try his hand at any of the spells he learned through them. He had since a young age developed a sort of love-hate relationship towards his own mythical abilities and had found that using them more often than not were accompanied by the worst kind of consequences.

As he slowly rose to a sitting position on the bed a series of hard knocks on his door finally reached his newly awakened senses. Stifling a yawn, Squall fell back down on the pillows – struck with sudden weariness despite having just woken up from who knew how long. Whoever it was at the door he was in no mood to deal with them. It was probably just Seifer returning to harass him some more, he figured.

However, when the intervalled knocking didn't seize for several minutes, the sound of bony knuckles hitting wood was quickly starting to grate on his already high-strung nerves. He had become quick to feeling angry and irritable recently and was in no mood to deal with yet another lecture about how apparently _heartless_ he was, and even less with a total stranger.

When pressing his palms against his ears to block out the sound didn't ease the impending headache pounding behind his forehead, he finally snapped and roared towards the closed door from the top of his lungs: "_Give it a goddamn rest, Seifer!_"

"... Who?"

Squall's eyes widened in surprise and he shot up from the bed, ignoring the dull ache in the back of his head caused by the sudden motion. That wasn't Seifer, that was...

"... _Wolf?! _What are you doing here?"

For years, Squall had indulged as much time in the comforting presence of the Wolf as opportunity allowed him to. Every other night he would go through the same routine: sneaking out through the bedroom window at the bottom floor, strapping on his backpack, filled with tools to help him find his way through the dark and an army knife in case he got into trouble, that he'd tucked away underneath the toppled rowing-boat, stranded by the ocean. He would run through the vast field of bright white flowers until he'd finally arrive at the outskirts of the forest where he would find the Wolf waiting for him. Always.

This was the first time the Wolf had come to _him_.

"I waited but you didn't show up... ... Are you all right?"

The Wolf's words were dampened by the wooden barrier separating the two but even though, Squall could've sworn that he'd heard something akin to genuine worry in the other man's deep voice.

He didn't quite understand why but he felt oddly touched by the fact that the Wolf had gone out of his way to check on him. He had always considered the Wolf a dear friend of his but had always assumed that it was mostly one-sided from his part and that it, in the end, wouldn't have mattered much to the Wolf if their encounters took a sudden stop.

Squall swallowed hard. His throat suddenly felt dry and clogged and for a moment he worried that he might be coming down with something.

"Would you like to unlock the door for me?" The Wolf said when he realized that his question had gone ignored and pulled at the unyielding door demonstratively, as if to prove that it was locked.

Squall swallowed several times and coughed into his hand before saying with a still slight rasp in his voice: "Check under the doormat, there should be a key there."

After som fumbling, The Wolf unlocked the door and invited himself inside.

"...How did you know I was here?" Squall finally asked after a brief silence, still slightly taken aback by his surprise visitor. Within the forest Fenrir was cursed to always have the appearance of the brutish Wolf and, as most of their encounters where strictly inside said forest, it was rather rare for Squall to see the Wolf in human's clothing. Because of this, he found it slightly unnerving to suddenly have the man inside his own room.

"I followed your scent. It led me here."

"Oh." He answered laconically, not entirely sure how to respond to such a statement. "Why are you here?"

A lesser man might have taken offense to Squall's candor but the Wolf only chuckled good-naturedly from behind his usual wolfish mask, already used to the younger man's lack of social skills. "Should I not be?"

"Sure, but... you've never come here before." Squall replied, a bit unsurely. He felt nervous but he wasn't entirely sure why.

"I already told you. You didn't come to me like you use to and I wanted to see you."

Squall furrowed his brows in deep thought for a few seconds before replying.

"... You wanted to see me... Why?"

The Wolf chuckled lowly again, clearly amused by Squall's apparent confusion. "Sticks and stones don't make great conversationalists."

Squall frowned, feeling oddly displeased and a little insulted at that answer. "Neither do I," he said sourly and crossed his arms before his chest defensively despite the fact that the Wolf wouldn't be able to see it.

"Maybe not," the Wolf agreed a bit to quickly for Squall's liking, deepening his frown yet a notch, "but your company is to be preferred."

Squall snorted disdainfully before he could stop himself. "What an honour that my company is worth more than those of greenery to the '_ferocious_' Wolf of the Woods."

The Wolf clambered further into the room, using his hands and feet as path-seekers until he felt his shin bump into warm muscles and brushed against skin - presumably one of Squall's legs. "You get what I mean," he proclaimed as he took a seat next to the youth on the bed. The Wolf found the silence that followed strangely comforting, the warmth emitting from beside him being a constant reminder that he wasn't alone for once. He had missed that warmth. You'd think that you would've become used to the chilled nights of the outside after having lived within the forest for so long, but after less than a week of absence from the boy whose company he now had gotten so used to, the darkness had suddenly come to feel colder than ever before.

The Wolf wouldn't have minded just sitting next to the young man until dawn would force him to return to whence he came without having a single sentence uttered between them, but he could tell that something was off.

"You're tense... Is everything all right?" He asked tentatively, leaning forward to rest his elbows onto his knees. There it was again, Squall thought to himself, that tinge of worry lacing the other man's voice – or was he just imagining it?

Squall sighed dejectedly. Unlike the others, for some reason he had always found it difficult to keep secrets from this man. It was strangely reassuring to talk to someone who was incapable of slandering behind your back.

"Matron went to heaven today, and I wasn't there to see her off," he said monotonously, as if he had said the exact same thing for so long that he was tired of hearing it.

"Why not?" The Wolf turned his head towards the young brunet to show that he was listening attentively.

"... She told me not to."

"Why did she do that?"

Squall sighed, immediately feeling exhaustion eating at him yet again.

"I'm not exactly the big favorite among the villagers here... Without being able to use her reputation as a shield any longer, she wants me to stay anonymous for a while. I'm not supposed to leave this room until it's safe again... Meaning that I can't go into the forest to visit you until then."

"... How long?"

"About until everyone outside of the orphanage believes me to be dead..."

"Oh." He paused, trying to take in this new set of information that Squall was feeding him. If barely a week without the boy's presence made him cold to the bone, he feared that months or even _years_ would give him frostbite. "That could take some time."

Squall nodded, forgetting momentarily that the Wolf would not be able to see the gesture.

"Matron recommended that... I'd change my name as well, just to be sure, so everyone is supposed to get used to referring to me as 'Leon' from now on. It will be my new alias once I get out of here."

That was the plan at least – Squall Leonhart would die and Leon would reborn from his ashes, starting his life anew where no one would ever know about his dormant magical potential and judge him because of it.

The Wolf went quiet. Thinking. He already had knowledge of most of the major things that Squall was telling him about, the death of Matron and the animosity towards him coming from the villagers (something that the Wolf himself was very familiar with and had experienced first hand many times in the past), what he didn't know was _why_. The dramatic changes to Squall's persona over the short period of just a few years hadn't gone unnoticed by the older man and while puberty may have been partly to blame, it wasn't a good enough explanation to why someone, who couldn't be more than a teenager yet, was acting like they were in their thirties already. He couldn't help but wonder if it was truly healthy for someone to grow up so quickly.

He had never asked the boy directly in the past, because he wasn't the type to normally pry into others business and he had always figured that the boy would've told him eventually if he truly had wanted him to know, but now his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. So he asked what had always been on his mind:

"... I don't understand. What's going on here? What did you _do_ to make the villagers hate you so?"

Squall rubbed at the scar between his eyes anxiously. He didn't like the direction this conversation was heading into. What used to be innocent questions was starting to feel more like an interrogation than anything else.

"You're asking too many questions!" He snapped irritably, massaging his temples as he felt the headache from earlier returning with vigor.

"Sorry... You can't blame me for being curious though. You're acting strange... "

This time Squall most definitely heard it, faintly but it was there – _worry_.

"I know," he sighed and drooped his head to stare at the floor, feeling slightly guilty for losing his temper with the Wolf who had yet to do anything to harm him. "It's just that... You already know so much about me yet I barely know a thing about you. It makes me uncomfortable... If you're curious about my story then it's only fair that you share yours as well!

All I know about you is that you used to be a regular human but now you're not... I know that you weren't always known as 'Fenrir' or 'The Big Bad Wolf'.

...Who were you before that?"

The Wolf was silent for a solid minute while he shifted in his seat, he had not anticipated this sudden developement where _he_ would be the one to be questioned. It wasn't the first time someone had asked about his origin, but he had never felt so cornered yet inclined to answer the question before. He had never met someone before who he truly felt _deserved _to know that much about him.

"... Do you really want to know? It might take a while..." he finally said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he did.

"Time is currently a resource that I've got plenty of."

The blond gulped before letting out a long, bone-weary exhale and he looked away from his companion in order to face the direction of the door, his hands clenched in front of him. Looking very much like a man who was trying his damnedest to keep himself from running away with his tail between his legs.

"... Once upon a time, in this very village**,** there lived a far-famed huntsman...-"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: **

_''What __big eyes you hav__e!'_

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_'Who goes there?'_

_'It's your grand-daughter and her escort,' replied the huntsman from behind the crooked door of a homely-looking cottage, 'she is bringing cake and wine, open the door.'_

_'Lift the latch,' called out the grandmother, 'I am too weak, and cannot get up.' _

_The huntsman did as told. The door sprang open and the little lady hurried inside, wasting no time to empty her basket on top of a small table by the window._

_In the opposite side of the room, tucked in from head to toe under layers of colorful blankets, the grandmother laid; But her flowery nightcap peeking out from beneath the covers._

_With the table set, the girl turned to the huntsman: 'Dearest Mr. Huntsman, would you help grandmother to the table for me?'_

_And the huntsman walked over to do just so._

… _But as he lifted the covers he found no old lady in a matching flowery gown. Instead there laid a familiar, decaying, grand white wolf; its nude form pitifully pink and wrinkled, the nightcap strapped around an once mighty jaw._

_'What trickery is this?!' outburst the huntsman towards the little lady in red, who's sweet smile and dimples had darkened and vanished._

_Suddenly, the cottage cried and whined and tilted to the side as the wooden boards beneath their feet snapped and discolored; it's entire foundation rotting in haste._

_'You,' the girl spoke, 'You who took it upon yourself to take a life that wasn't yours to take._

_You, who robbed us and our home of our Protector - Leaving us to wither by the hands of man._

_... How do you plead?'_

_But the huntsman did not listen. 'You're a sorceress?!' Fearing for his life, the huntsman quickly pulled out his rifle – hesitating but for a moment as he aimed it towards the child – and shot. The bullet passed right through as if she had been made out of smoke._

_'Guily, guilty, guilty,' chanted the girl as she loosened the string that fastened her velvety red riding hood around her neck. The hood left her shoulders. It flew through the air as if carried by the wind and expanded before swallowing the huntsman whole. Angry red cloth wrapped around his body tightly._

_'Here, in this very forest, you will redeem your sins. Replace the one that you took from us. And everything that were once your glory shall now become your arsenal to protect this place. Your new Home._

_That is your Curse.'_

_When the sorceress released the huntsman the first thing he noticed was how all the colors were gone. Without looking back, the cursed huntsman fled, running on all fours out of the forest._

_Past the outskirts of the forest, the huntsman tripped on two legs yet again._

_Along the main road back to town, he stumbled upon the fair flowergirl picking bluebells into a basket woven out of straw. Relieved and far too eager to warn his beloved of the danger still lurking within the woods, the huntsman hurried to greet her. Too late did he recall his curse, and as husband and wife met eyes, the fair woman paled and fell dead to the ground._

_Appaled, the huntsman retreated back into the depths of the woods that had condemned him. Swearing never to return until all of his sins had been duly repented._

_And, to this day, the far-famed huntsman dwells in the depth of those woods; serving his sentence beset to him by a vengeful witch for the rest of eternity – dressed in wolf's clothing._

–

"-... During my time, there were two attributes which I was famous for. The first one was being a successful hunter. I was known for tracking and hunting down game regardless of the weather. And then... There was my eyes. Those were my glory."

Leon furrowed his eyebrows. "Your eyes?" He asked.

"They have a strange coloration. Rumors spread quickly about how they were tinted with magic and gave me special sight to help me with my hunting. Like seeing through trees or even tell the future. It was horseshit, of course, but I let people believe what they wanted to. It brought plenty of work my way."

"Magic? Now you got me curious," said Leon quietly, more to himself than anything. But The Wolf heard and shook his head in response.

"Forget it. My eyes are cursed. Anyone who meets them has their heart stop beating," he said; idly re-adjusted the mask covering his face with the palm of his hand and sighed audibly. He was suffering, Leon could tell from his posture. He had gradually slumped in his seat as he went on with his tale, until he had nearly folded into himself at the waist. His hands locked behind his head and pressed against the back of his skull, as if to push the memories back down again.

In truth, The Wolf was ashamed. Now that Leon had learned the truth he felt naked sitting next to him. Each one of his scars and faults uncovered for the younger man to scrutinize.

No doubt, Leon had already heard the stories of his alter ego, Fenrir, and what he did to those who wandered too far into his woods. Whenever a human would enter the woods, the trees would gossip, their whispered warning spreading like water through their roots until it reached The Wolf's ears. If the human kept wandering or worse, carried a weapon, the trees would start to scream, and The Wolf's mind went blank and he would follow the sound blindly. Chasing the intruder back to whence they came or tear them apart between his powerful jaws. Oftentimes, their fate ended up being the latter.

The forest was scared and paranoid and often far too quick to send their guard dog on anyone who trespassed, regardless of size, age or gender. Punishments were always dealt indiscriminately. But for some reason Leon had somehow managed to not alert them. The first time he had entered the woods, the trees had only gossiped curiously. The second time they had welcomed him back.

Because of this, The Wolf wasn't sure Leon fully grasped how truly dangerous he was. He had never been there to witness The Wolf's true colors.

"Leon..." He swallowed against the roughness in his throat, "I'm a _monster_."

"I'm not afraid," Leon was surprisingly quick to answer. The Wolf frowned behind his mask. This wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"I'm a sinner paying for his crimes. People _die _because of me. I'm... _evil!_" He pressed the last part through gritted teeth, waiting for the defining moment where his friend would fear him like everyone else. He knew the truth, how could he not?

But Leon only shook his head. "You keep saying that, but I don't believe it. 'Evil' isn't real."

Despite himself The Wolf relaxed, realizing for the first time how tense he was. Each muscle a hard wire bulging visibly through light skin, and his shoulders raised so high they nearly touched his ears. He sat up properly again and leaned his back against the wall and said with fair disbelief coating his words: "...You're a strange one, Squall Leonhart."

Leon winced. "Squall Leonhart is dead..."

"Yet Leon lives on. Speaking of which, I just told you my story. Don't you owe me yours?"

Leon responded by clearing his throat and said dodgedly, "It's not much of a story. Not compared to yours at least."

"Don't give me that. A deal is a deal, and you never struck me as the kinda man who goes back on his own words," The Wolf taunted.

Leon swallowed. He looked around the room erratically until he found something to focus on; the dancing flame captured within one of the oil lamps on his desk. It's stinging light and movement lent him some comfort.

The sheets shuffled slightly and the sweeping sound of skin rubbing against skin sounded loud in the otherwise silence within the cramped cottage. The buzz of tiny fluttering wings flew past The Wolf's ear, he idly swatted them away, and outside he heard the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore.

Leon took his time answering, but The Wolf never rushed him. He waited patiently, until he heard the man at this side let out a shaky breath, and in that same breath he said: "I am a Sorcerer."

The Wolf only scoffed mithlessly, "So that's why the forest took so kindly to you."

"... Are you disgusted?" Leon's response was immediate and he regretted it just as quickly, yet he couldn't stop himself from adding: "_Do you hate me now?_"

The Wolf shook his head. "I would be a hypocrite if I did. If you can accept me for what I am then the least that I can do is return the favor."

"... A Sorceress cursed you..."

"Was it you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why should it matter?"

Leon said nothing but stared wide-eyed at his guest for what couldn't have been more than a minute but, to him, it felt like hours passed them by... The concept of time had never been more lost on him. When he snapped out of it, he cursed himself for acting so childishly. And took a deep breath.

"My mother was a Sorceress..." He started carefully, this time watching The Wolf without wavering, "...or so I've been told. She died shortly after I was born and when she did she passed her powers down to me. I was labelled 'Evil' before I could even form thoughts and opinions of my own...Is it really that strange if I don't mindlessly buy into the concept like everyone else seems to so easily? … Maybe I would of if I too had been offered the chance to be the 'Hero'." Leon snorted at the thought. "... But I realize now that it's not fair to say that a person must be either 'Good' or 'Evil'. A person's virtue isn't that simple that it can be decided by a flip of a coin."

"I agree."

The Wolf leaned into him, lifting his left hand and putting it blindly where he assumed Leon's knee would be. It landed on the back of his hand.

"... Leon... Squall... _Sorcerer... _It doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact that I still want to see you, though."

Leon said nothing. His eyes fixed to The Wolf's hand covering his own.

"If you can't come to me, then I will come to you instead. I can't stay for long, though," The Wolf continued and reached up with his other hand to unconciously finger along the chain trapped around his neck. Leon's attention snapped to the movement and he watched The Wolf's fingers intently for a moment as they brushed against the barely visible chain. He followed the tail of the chain as it snaked across the floorboards and vanished through one of the walls as if it wasn't even there.

"... Maybe I can break it," Leon murmured before turning to face The Wolf fully. "... I'm a Sorcerer. If another Sorceress put you under this curse then maybe I can be the one to break it," he pondered and cupped his chin thoughtfully.

Although hidden behind his mask, The Wolf smiled. "I was actually hoping that you would reach that conclusion."

Leon frowned. "I have never practiced my Magic, though. I don't know how long it might take..."

The Wolf's fingers closed around the hand in his, "You're not the only one with an excessive amount of time to spare."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: **

"_What large hands you have!"_

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"You're late," said Leon as he opened the door. He sniffed the air and promptly added: "And you smell like wet dog..."

The Wolf chuckled. "I'm not surprised."

Opening the door wide, Leon ushered The Wolf inside the cottage and then leaned out the doorway, peeking left and right before he shut it again. The chill of the night that brushed against his naked skin caused him to shudder. He was standing in nothing but a pair of navy-colored boxer shorts, having prepared for bed when he had figured that The Wolf wasn't planning on showing up this evening.

Leon strode over to the small bathroom area, grabbed his only clean towel and tossed it at The Wolf. "Get undressed and dry yourself with that," he ordered as he proceeded over to his lantern, still slightly smoking, standing on his nightstand. There, he snapped his fingers and a thin flame was born from the tip.

The Wolf wasted no time ridding himself of his clothes, the drenched fabric clung uncomfortably to his body like a stubborn second skin. Leon remained quiet as The Wolf peeled his shirt over his head and shimmied out of his pants, but he could feel the younger man's gaze on him as he did. He dried himself with the borrowed towel the best he could and then tied it around his waist. He didn't care much for modesty – although he probably had once upon a time – but he figured that Leon might.

Their rendezvous went on as it usually did: going right down to business and talked about Leon's progress with mastering his sorcery. Wind and Water, those were the elementals that came the most natural to him, Leon told The Wolf. Fire required some concentration but was easy once he got into the right mindset of it, but Earth he couldn't even begin to figure out yet. All in all, his magic capabilities were quickly taking form. Had Matron been still alive she might have called him out on being a natural to the craft.

Once Leon finished reciting his status report, their conversation gradually dawned into silence; but a few comments here or there or a good-natured jab at each other remained. As it usually did. Neither man being much for smalltalk. There was a tacit agreement shared between them that they would remain like that until Leon fell asleep, and The Wolf was forced to return to his woods.

"... I wish to see you." Unless, The Wolf said just that.

Leon did not immediatly answer, but the soft creak in the bed told The Wolf that his request had been accepted.

"I could just close my eyes, you know," Leon said, but took the older man's hand and guided it towards his cheek none the less. The Wolf used his thumb to trace smooth cheek bones and dusty stubble. He slowly raised his hands from Leon's face, and brushed the brunet's bangs back with his fingers, running them through thick, silky locks until he reached their tips; a hairsbreadth away from a pair of broad shoulders.

He reached up again and grabbed hold of Leon's chin. "I don't know the clear-cut limitations to my curse. And I'm done taking risks," The Wolf admitted.

Leon let out a sigh. He took The Wolf's hand in his, "Then don't let me stop you," he said, and moved the hand to lay flat against his own chest. Beneath his palm, The Wolf could feel a rapid beating heart. Urging him to continue.

Behind his mask, The Wolf smiled happlessly. "Right now, you're the only one who can..."

The room subsided into silence once more as The Wolf explored the other body leisurely. A square chest blending into a lean waist and sharp hips. The concave of a broad back that caused him to naturally straighten his stance. Soft thighs and hard calves along long legs. He took everything in through the palms of his hands.

He paused for a second, when he felt a pair of hands reaching for the back of his skull. Unbuckling one of the belts keeping his mask in place, Leon lifted- and pushed it to the side, revealing a pair palish lips and a pointed nose. He hooked his arms around The Wolf's neck and pressed a tentative peck to the older man's lips. The Wolf answered to the second kiss. The third one he deepend.

Hands roamed the younger man's back and neck with newfound purpose. Pushing gently at the younger man's shoulderblades and urging him forward, closer. He let his hands slide down Leon's sides and then let them rest on either side of his hips. "... Can I see all of you?" The Wolf asked, stroking his thumb along the protruding bone there meaningfully.

Leon swore. "Don't ask me that. Just do it."

And so, The Wolf did. He pressed another kiss to Leon's lips, and inched both his hands into the garment that was Leon's underwear and pushed it down below his buttocks. Leon moaned softly in his ear when The Wolf touched him. He closed his hand around his partner's manhood and followed its length up to the tip, and then back down again. At some point, Leon had started to pant.

"Excited?" The Wolf whispered haughtily.

Leon huffed at him. "Like you're one to talk," he said and pushed his knee in between The Wolf's naked legs, where the towel bulged treacherously. The Wolf grunted in surprise, but followed it up with a crooked smile on his lips. Two could play this game.

"I have nothing to hide," he said and untied the towel around his waist, and let it fall from his hips, without hesitation.

For a moment, as he took in the whole of the man standing in front of him, Leon got the sudden impression that he had seen everything that was The Wolf. Despite there yet being many missing pieces to the man and his peculiar history, Leon felt like he knew everything about him, or, everything that he needed to know, at least. There was no secrets between them. There was nothing more to hide. And being able to share that kind of familiary with someone was comforting.

"Don't overthink this now. Or are you getting second thoughts?" The Wolf wondered, misinterpreting Leon's silence and stilling actions.

Leon's response was to take hold of each side of The Wolf's face and press a bruising kiss to his lips. It caused The Wolf to bang the back of his head against the wall, and the kiss was wet and sloppy and swift and caused a string of saliva to still connect them when Leon pulled away once more and said, his voice like gravel and out of breath: "I'm fine."

And he wasn't lying this time. His heart was racing, his arms and fingers twitched from adrenaline, and the warmth caused him to sweat and color his usually colorless face with an embarassing hue; but he understood now that all of that was fine. It was all a part of whatever this was; this kind of relationship that he had developed with The Wolf over the years.

"If you want to stop," The Wolf rasped against Leon's lips, "just give me the word."

"Right now, it's not your words that I need. So, shut up."

The Wolf chuckled. "Eager?"

"Shut up."


End file.
